


Cops and Robbers

by lost_spook



Category: Carry On Constable, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Barbara Wright is more awesome than you, Barbara catches burglars in her spare time, Crossover, Gen, Pre-Canon, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-02
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-06 03:00:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/413970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_spook/pseuds/lost_spook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Barbara Wright chases a criminal - only to find herself meeting with an incompetent policeman, who's also in pursuit of a suspicious old fellow who lives in a junkyard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cops and Robbers

**Author's Note:**

> The crossover character here comes courtesy of _Carry On Constable_ (played by Kenneth Connor), but as I don’t expect readers to have watched an old b &w comedy from 1960, this is merely a bit of nonsense in which Barbara and the First Doctor very nearly meet a few months before that November.

_Wednesday_

“Oh, there you are,” said Barbara, looking in through the door to one of the Coal Hill School’s labs. “Where have you been all day?”

Ian Chesterton, the science master, grinned back at her. “Field trip,” he returned easily. “Is my hair white, by any chance?”

“No, of course it isn’t,” Barbara returned. “So, do you want to tell me about it, or do you want to hear about the very odd evening I had yesterday?”

Ian turned around with a smile. “Oh, I’d rather forget the trip as soon as possible. What do you mean, odd evening? What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” Barbara said, entering the room fully. “Only I’ve wanted to tell someone all day. I went home as usual, but as I was about to go into my flat I heard something moving about in the garden – and I know the people in the ground flat are away.”

The science master raised his eyebrows. “Been catching burglars in your spare time, have you? Well, I hope you read them one of your famous lectures. That’ll teach them.”

“Ian,” she said reprovingly. “It isn’t funny. I think it _must_ have been something like that.”

*

_Tuesday_

She peered round the corner of the wall, watching the back gate open. It was hard to make out the figure, as it was wrapped up under a big coat that must have been stifling on a June day. He even had some items in a sack – the classic thief, almost too much so to be true.

Barbara drew back, and hurried back onto the road, hoping for a policeman, but there wasn’t one around, not very surprisingly. So she headed back into the alleyway, and followed at a distance.

Halfway down the alley way, she found something the fugitive had obviously dropped, and picked it up. It was small, and round, and metal and nothing she could put a name to. It wasn’t quite like anything she’d ever seen before.

*

_Wednesday_

“What was it?” Ian asked.

Barbara shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. I had to hand it over to the policeman, when I eventually bumped into one.”

“Oh?”

“Literally,” Barbara said, with a gleam of humour in her eye. “And after that, I don’t know what happened to the thief!”

*

_Tuesday_

She moved along cautiously. The figure was still a good way ahead of her now, out on one of the streets, and whoever it was didn’t seem to have seen her. She carried on, with determination.

A few moments later, someone clapped a hand on her shoulder, and she turned with a yell, and somehow they both overbalanced, tumbling over in the street.

“Oh, I do beg your pardon, madam,” said the policeman, who turned out to be the person responsible. He remained on the pavement, with a confused look on his face. “Ow,” he muttered.

Barbara got back to her feet and offered him her hand. “Are you all right, Constable? I’m sorry, but you gave me a scare -”

“Ah, yes,” the constable said, straightening himself a little, and getting back up, and putting his helmet to the proper angle. He coughed. He was rather short, but he tried to cover that now, by putting a very serious expression on his face, and deepening his voice with an effort. “I had reports of someone behaving suspiciously, miss. Madam. I came to investigate – and – well, I found you.”

She paused. “Oh.”

“Creeping around the back alleyways in a highly suspicious manner,” the short policeman continued, fiddling with the strap of his helmet, it not sitting quite right on his dark, springy hair. “I’m afraid it’s my business to ask you – well – what _your_ business is.”

Barbara looked down at him. “I was following a thief, you see, and then, I suppose you followed me, and now we’ve both lost him.”

“You were following a thief, madam?” the constable asked, extracting a notebook from his pocket, and then a pencil, which he licked, following the action with a grimace at the taste, as if it had somehow come as a surprise. “Do you have any evidence?”

The history teacher held out her find. “Well, this, I suppose, but you see, I saw him sneaking out of the flat below, with a bag, all covered up in a ridiculous coat. He dropped this a little way back there.”

“Oh,” said the policeman, his entire face drooping. “Oh. I seem to have made a mistake, madam. I do apologise, only there was a gentleman who seemed quite convinced that you – well, he was obviously mistaken, and I shall be taking _his_ name if I see him again.”

Barbara smiled. “Thank you. Hadn’t you better go after the robber? He went that way.”

“Oh,” the constable said, again. “Of course. Yes. Thank you, Miss – Mrs -?”

She drew herself up. “Miss Wright,” she said. “Barbara. I teach at Coal Hill School, if you need to find me again. May I ask your name – in case the burglar comes back?”

“You may,” the policeman said, and swallowed. He gave her a look out of dark eyes that implored her not to laugh. “Constable, madam.”

She waited. “Constable -?”

“That’s it,” he said. “Constable. Constable Constable.”

Barbara blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Charlie Constable,” he repeated, miserably, everything drooping. “PC Charles Constable, that’s me.”

*

_Wednesday_

“Constable Constable?” said Ian, laughing.

Barbara nodded, equally amused. “Yes. Poor man!”

“Let’s hope he gets promoted quickly, then. Maybe he’ll catch your mysterious thief and that’ll help him along the way.”

Barbara frowned in thought. “Is Sergeant Constable any better?”

“Probably not,” said Ian. “Go on, then.”

“Well, that’s it, I’m afraid. After that, I went home, and had my tea, and I never heard anything more about it. There was no more trouble downstairs – and you can imagine I kept my eyes open – and Constable Constable didn’t return to make any further enquiries. I was looking in the newspaper this morning, but of course, there’s no mention of anything silly like that.”

“Let’s assume he caught him,” said Ian, with a smile. “Anyhow, since we’re talking of evenings out, it did occur to me that perhaps -”

There was a knock at the door, and they both turned.

“Miss Wright?”

The history mistress crossed over. “Yes, Susan?”

“I did wonder if you could lend me another book,” her pupil said. “Only the school library doesn’t have very much on the Great Reform Act – nothing worth taking home, and they will get their facts so muddled.”

Ian made a face to himself. Susan Foreman, he thought, another of life’s little mysteries, along with strange thieves, policeman with unlikely names, why someone always fell in the mud on a field trip, and when he would ever have a sensible opportunity to finish that particular sentence.

“I’ll find one for you,” Barbara was saying. She did glance back to give him an apologetic smile, but disappeared with the teenager in search of a suitably challenging history book.

There was, deciding Ian, reflecting on Susan’s request, something wrong with the youth of today.

*

_Tuesday_

The Doctor arrived back at the TARDIS, out of breath, but chuckling to himself, his blue eyes alight with glee.

It had been such fun – more fun than he had had in a while, trapped in this ridiculous time and place. Of course, as soon as he had seen the Grontu stealing into that building, he had known that he would have to stop the creature, because no one on this backward planet would have the capability to even see what it was.

What he hadn’t bargained for was for that interfering female to also start following the Grontu. It was, he decided, lucky he had bumped into that policeman and been able to confuse the issue long enough to deal with the alien, and, what was more, collect rather an interesting pile of artefacts that might come in useful for mending the TARDIS.

He indulged himself in another bout of amusement, and then pulled out his TARDIS key.

“Got you!” said the policeman he’d just been thinking of, emerging from behind the junkyard’s gate, and blowing his whistle. “You thought you’d fooled me, didn’t you? – reporting that nice young lady who was only trying to do her civic duty, and then waiting further on to collect the loot from your accomplice, but I was a match for you!”

The Doctor turned and gave him a glare. “Young man, I did nothing of the sort. Do you mean to say that you have followed me here, instead of pursuing that obviously suspicious young woman who was clambering about in people’s gardens?”

“Well, I -”

The Doctor turned. “I,” he said, “am going to go inside this box for a bit. You have no objection, I trust?”

“I suppose not,” said Constable Constable, looking at the police box. “Although, what you’re doing with one of them in here -”

“Well, _you_ could always go in the box, while _I_ stay out here.”

“No, no,” the policeman said, backing away a little. “No. Obviously, I’m not going to fall for that one.”

The Doctor glared. “Well, then, young man, I am going to go inside for some peace and quiet from interfering and incompetent fellows like you, and you can wait out here for me. Wait as long as you like – do!”

*

Hours later, the Doctor re-emerged, poking his head round the door curiously. “Young man, are you still there?”

“Yes, sir.”

He tutted. “Since I’m not trying to run away, and it should be obvious to you that I’m not a thief, then why -?”

The policeman swallowed. “Well, you see, sir – you trapped the end of my coat in these doors. I’ve been trying to get away for ages, but you didn’t seem to take any notice of me. Funny that box, it kind of hums. Anyway, how do I know you’re not a thief?”

“Do I look like a thief?” the Doctor demanded, using his cloak for full effect. “Dear, dear, do go away, you silly policeman. What’s your name? I shall be having a word with the Chief of Police tomorrow, let me assure you.”

The constable opened his mouth, and then coloured, and sagged in defeat. “Constable, sir. Constable Constable. I’ll go away, sir. We’ll have to keep an eye on this place, though.”

“By all means,” the Doctor said. “Why not? The last thing I want is any thieves rummaging around in here.”

Constable Constable straightened himself. “Right. As long as that’s understood. I shall be keeping my beady eye on you, sir.”

“And I shall most certainly be having you transferred,” the Doctor retorted. “Good night, young man!”

He swept back into the TARDIS, and then shook his head, chuckling to himself again. Well, really, Constable Constable, with his coat trapped in the door. He leant back against the doors, and laughed till he cried, so much so that Susan ran over to him in concern, demanding to know if he was all right.

“Perfectly,” her grandfather said, flapping his handkerchief at her, as he continued to chuckle. “I’ve been having rather an enjoyable day, my dear, that’s all.”

Susan shook her head in mystification, and, since she had five minutes to spare, wandered off to finish the 600 page history book.


End file.
